You Left a Hole Where My Heart Should Be
by sofia313
Summary: A long time ago Lucien loved Madeleine, but he lost her. Centuries later Tristan runs into Riley Rose, a girl who happens to be a spitting image of Lucien's dead lover. What would be a better weapon to use against Lucien?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I looked outside through the window; I loved to watch the birds flying in the sky. I didn't dream of one morning to wake up free as a bird and fly away, not anymore. Three years of captivity had taken its toll, I no longer dreamt of freedom. Maybe someone could have called it a Stockholm syndrome, but that wasn't true, I still hated the bastard who had taken away my freedom without even telling me why. Now I didn't care about his reasons anymore, what difference would that make?

I hadn't cried for a long time, not even when I thought about my mom. I wondered if she had moved on already, she probably thought that I was dead. But then again, I might have as well been dead, this house was my tomb. I had been 15 when he had taken me, now I was 18 and I hadn't left from this house for the last three years. There were no locks on the doors, no bars in the windows, but still I couldn't leave. Funny, I had never believed in boogeyman, but he was close enough. A vampire. Who would have ever known? If someone would have told me four years ago that vampires were real, I would have laughed.

"Riley?"

I didn't startle, I had got used to people walking into my room without knocking, why would they care about my privacy. Carelessly I turned to look at my jailor, the middle-aged witch called Vera. I hadn't believed in witches either, but that wasn't the only thing I had been wrong about.

"What?" I muttered.

"Tristan is here to see you. He is waiting downstairs."

Oh great… He had been away for a while and I had been glad about that, but of course it was too good to last.

"What does he want?" I muttered.

Vera frowned.

"Watch your tongue, girl. He's in a good mood, don't ruin that."

"Whatever," I huffed; I didn't care about much anything these days. What did I have to look forward except more endless days, weeks, months, years in this damn house? Sure it was a big house, my room was nice and all my basic needs were taken care of, but none of that changed the fact that I was a prisoner. My mom and I have had our differences, but I loved her and missed her. She had tried her best after my dad had left and I certainly hadn't been the perfect child. My last words to her had been "I hate you". I would have given anything if I could have taken those words back, but I would never be able to do that.

"Come on," Vera said impatiently. "You know he doesn't like to wait."

Reluctantly I stood up, there was no point trying to dawdle. I would just have to go and see what he wanted.

* * *

 _3 years earlier…_

 _Stupid alarm clock… I turned it off and buried my face under the pillow. I could just go back to sleep and skip the school… No, I couldn't, I would be expelled if I would skip any more classes. So what, who needed school? I sighed and got into a sitting position. My room was very small and my only furniture was a bed, a bedside table, a small desk and a closet._

 _The whole apartment was sleazy, but it was all we could afford. I picked up my jeans from the floor and tried to look for my t-shirt. It was under the bed with my math book and an empty soda can. Maybe I should consider cleaning up around here… Nah, why bother. Carelessly I went to the small bathroom and I brushed my teeth and hair, I didn't feel like putting on much make-up. The TV was on and mom was sleeping on the couch, there was a full ashtray and a half empty bottle on the table in front of her._

 _"Mom?" I said. "Mom, I need lunch money."_

 _"Check my purse," she muttered without opening her eyes._

 _"Where's your purse?"_

 _"I don't know…"_

 _I huffed and looked around; I found it from behind the couch. Unfortunately she didn't have any money in there._

 _"Mom, there's no money."_

 _"What do you want me to do about it?" she muttered sleepily._

 _I clenched my fists; I was already in a bad mood._

 _"You could get your ass off that couch," I snapped._

 _She opened her eyes and glared at me._

 _"You ungrateful little… Do you have any idea how many sacrifices I've made for you?"_

 _"Right, sure… drunk."_

 _"What?" she shouted and jumped to her feet. "Shut your mouth!"_

 _"Why don't you drink some more, that's your answer to everything!" I shouted back at her. "No wonder dad left!"_

 _Her face went blank, I knew that had been low, but I didn't care, I wanted her to suffer._

 _"Get out!" she shouted._

 _"Fine! I hate you!" I shouted back and grabbed my hoodie and my backpack on my way out. I already regretted saying those things to her, but I didn't turn back, I would go to the stupid school. Tears were burning behind my eyes, but I didn't let them out. Angrily I marched down the street; my bike had been stolen a while back. I hated going to school, I hated my crappy home and I hated my life. If I could just get away… I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice the car that stopped next to me._

 _"Madeleine!"_

 _I didn't pay any attention to the man's voice, not before he stepped in front of me. He was some suit guy who had blue eyes and brown hair; he was staring at me disbelievingly._

 _"Madeleine?"_

 _"My name is Riley," I muttered and tried to get past him, but he stepped in front of me._

 _"Impossible…" he muttered._

 _Was he a junky or something? I tried to get past him again, but he blocked my way._

 _"Would you mind?" I snapped. "I'm late from school."_

 _He smiled._

 _"Perhaps I could offer you a ride."_

 _"No thanks," I muttered, did he think that I was an idiot? Creep…_

 _He grabbed my chin and I saw his pupils dilating. Oh great, he really was a junky._

 _"You will get in the car…" he started, but he didn't have time to finish his sentence when I kicked him between his legs, making him to growl in pain._

 _"Get off me, creep!" I shouted and tried to run past him, but someone else blocked my way. This other guy was tall, he had black hair and dark eyes, he grabbed me a shoved me into the car before I managed to scream. The suit guy was next to me in a second, he didn't look pleased._

 _"Drive," he said to the dark-haired guy._

 _I tried desperately to get out, but the suit guy grabbed my hands._

 _"I would stop moving right now if I were you," he stated menacingly. "Foolish girl…"_

 _I swallowed, despite of my anger, I was smart enough to be afraid._

 _"I'm sorry," I said as calmly as I could. "I shouldn't have kicked you, I'm sorry."_

 _He didn't say anything; he simply observed me. His grip was viselike, he was hurting my wrists._

 _"I'm sorry," I said again. "This was just a misunderstanding, thank you for dropping me off to school."_

 _"Oh, I'm afraid you are not going to school," he said. "I have other plans for you."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

One, two, three and creak, four, five, six… Once again I counted the steps silently as I followed Vera downstairs; that was just one of the nice little neuroses I had developed during my captivity. I counted things and my social skills had almost disappeared since I didn't have anyone to talk to. Vera didn't usually talk to me unless she actually had something to say, but I didn't really talk to her either. She wasn't nice, but she wasn't particularly rude either, unless I was rude to her.

At first I had been, I liked to think that I have had the right to be, but now I didn't care anymore. After my first months in this house, I had been so lonely and hoping for any kind of human contact that I had tried to approach her, but that hadn't really worked out. To her I wasn't a human being; I was merely some kind of object she had been told to guard.

There were other people who came here to clean and cook, but none of them ever said a word to me, like I wouldn't even be here at all. Maybe it was some kind of spell, I really didn't know. Tristan came here from time to time; sometimes he had people with him, usually other vampires like a woman called Aya. She was okay, not nice, but not rude either.

I was nervous when I approached the living room; I hadn't seen other people except Vera for a while. I spent most of my time in my room reading, watching TV, listening to music from my iPod and running on the treadmill. I had always loved running; I had even made it into the team back in junior high. That had been in another life, too long ago to matter.

Now I was a neurotic hermit who talked to herself or to the TV. I continued counting my steps until I reached the living room, I wondered if I should have got changed, I was only wearing a pink Garfield t-shirt, which Vera had for some unknown reason bought for me, and pajama pants. Tristan was sitting on the big dark brown sofa holding a teacup; he really seemed to be in a good mood. How nice for him.

"There's my girl," he said smiling and stood up, placing his cup on the mahogany coffee table. "How are you, dear?"

"Fine," I muttered, what else could I say? I didn't react when he took my hand and kissed it, he was into that kind of old fashion stuff.

"Come," he said and made me to sit down on the sofa. "How are things? Vera told me that you have spent a lot of time in your room."

Oh great, he seemed to be in a rare "Uncle Tristan mood", which meant that he was acting like he would have genuinely cared about my wellbeing. Well, better that than his jerk mood, at least usually. I've had plenty of time to read during the last three years and psychology had been one of my favorite subjects, probably because often I was afraid of losing my mind.

I've read a lot about the twisted relationships between the captives and the captors, especially when someone had been kept as a prisoner for a long time. I didn't think that I had been brainwashed or manipulated, I simply didn't care about much anything anymore. I didn't have warm feelings toward my capturer and I didn't think that the lack of abuse was an act of kindness, but I didn't have any interest yelling at him and demanding him to let me go either. That would be completely useless.

"Yes," I muttered. "Is that a problem?"

"Not to me, sweetheart, if everything is alright with you."

"Sure, whatever."

He frowned.

"Alright, good. I myself am on my way to New Orleans."

"Oh."

I had always wanted to see New Orleans, I had never traveled much. When I had been 6 or 7, my dad had taken me to California with him to keep him company; he had got paid to drive some guy's car there. He had never really had a steady job; he had taken whatever small jobs had been offered to him. All of those jobs hadn't been completely legal, mom had sometimes complained about that, but she had still accepted the money dad had brought home.

To me that trip to California was one of my most precious childhood memories, even though we had had to sleep in the car; we hadn't had money for a motel. I remembered how we had listened to the radio and dad had sung along while driving, he had made me laugh by making up his own lyrics and adding my name into the songs.

He had been the best dad there was, buying me candy from the gas stations and letting me order whatever I had wanted when we had stopped to eat. After I had eaten, I always had to pretend that I was feeling sick and my stomach was hurting, that way dad hadn't had to pay for my food. He had explained that it was like a fun game and I had been too young to question anything he said to me. Of course now I knew better, but I still didn't think that my dad was a bad person. We had spent the whole day on the beach; that had been the first and the last time when I had seen the sea, but I still remembered what it smelled like.

"So… What's in New Orleans?" I muttered, although I didn't really care.

Tristan smiled.

"I have some business there."

"Right, okay," I mumbled carelessly, for some reason I was staring at my hands. I never looked him in the eye if I didn't have to.

"And there is something else," he added after a brief moment of silence.

Reluctantly I looked up, he was still smiling.

"Oh?"

"I am taking you with me."

I stared at him disbelievingly, I was sure that he couldn't be serious.

"Wha-what?"

"I am taking you with me," he repeated calmly. "So I would like you to go to your room and start packing, we will leave as soon as you are ready."

I still wasn't sure was he serious. The whole thing felt nothing but unreal, would I finally get out of this house? Was it cold or hot outside? Was it raining? Was it…

"Why?"

That was the only thing I managed to say out loud. Vera rolled her eyes, but Tristan didn't seem at all annoyed or impatient.

"Well… As I said, I have some business in New Orleans and I heard that an old friend of mine is also there. I would very much like to introduce you to him."


End file.
